


Explorers

by dovesdanceatdawn



Series: Origami and Poetry [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Asexual Castiel, Demisexual Sam, Ficlet, Human Castiel, M/M, Non-Sexual Intimacy, POV Castiel, Poet Sam, Touch, Touching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-10
Updated: 2015-04-10
Packaged: 2018-03-20 08:56:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3644298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dovesdanceatdawn/pseuds/dovesdanceatdawn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>In the low lamp light, Castiel embraced his role of explorer.</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Explorers

 

In the low lamp light, Castiel embraced his role of explorer. Fingertips brushed long strokes along the arm of his beloved, lingered when they reached wrist and palm. He then made small circles on the web of flesh between forefinger and thumb; he paused when Sam shuddered under his breath.

“Sam?” he whispered. The other man sighed and shook his head.

“I dare to dream what madness you transpire under light embrace,” Sam said. His eyes fluttered open, their focus cloudy and searching. “Sensations breathe fire, my skin aflame . . .”

Castiel smiled at Sam’s thrumming vein and lifted his hand from his lover’s skin. Fingers found the hem of flannel and pulled slow. Fabric skittered up Sam’s abdomen and chest until it bunched near his collarbone. Sam moaned through the slow crawl; his eyes flickered shut.

“Sing to me, beloved,” Castiel whispered. His fingertips brushed along the other man’s abs; rivulets along smooth stones, they traveled up and swirled under the ribcage. “Enlighten me with your passion. Speak in lull night . . .”

“I travel worlds to greet the dust and rock from comet’s past. Forged in solace, they dance with want, thirsting for their sun--.” Sam arched up slightly from Castiel’s quick stroke against his chest. “I feel . . . I feel sands hot beneath my feet and I wonder how soft the angel cries—Cas, stop. I . . . can’t think . . .”

“Shh.” Castiel removed his hand from the trembling man and lay down on the bed. “That was . . . incredible.”

Sam nodded, tongue too heavy to form words. He gasped in the dull-lit room; small pants evened out into easy breaths. His eyes opened half-mast, the fog clearing from their exploration. He reached over and lightly stroked the side of Castiel’s forehead, fingers roving down the side of his partner’s face until they curved up and relaxed near the chin. Castiel breathed and closed his eyes; he moved up, pushing sheets, until he pressed his forehead against Sam’s. His eyes opened and took in the hooded shade of hazel and awe. Sam drowned in lake and love.

“My poet,” Castiel whispered. “My sun and light and song. I love you.”

The corners of Sam’s eyes crinkled with the small quirk of his lips. “I love you,” he whispered back. “My bliss.”

They settled into the covers and took turns exploring each other’s face and neck until, at last, they fell asleep.

 

**Author's Note:**

> "Explorers" and "The Portrait," the work that will follow this one, lack origami. Both ficlets give us a peek into their relationship after the sun sets.


End file.
